Bellad Songthorn

Out of Character

New Caledonia
Privileged
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Luperci
Howlykin --
29 --
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Tue Jun 18, 2019 3:46 pm Howlykin #0632
14
Sat Aug 24, 2019 9:20 am
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In Character

Male 04 Mar 2015
Wolf Ortus
Bellad is covered in a coal black pelt, with silvery white fur mixed in on his underbelly, near his pitch black nose and at the bottom of his muzzle. His pelt gives way on his left shoulder and hip, revealing a pair of burn scars. His eyes are a piercing fiery orange and while even his Secui seems more lightweight and agile than could be expected of the robust form, the intensity of his gaze remains in every form. Valuing the manual dexterity of a humanoid hand, he is frequently in his Optime form, in which he stands around two meters tall. He keeps a confident gait, even whilst his older brother’s figure looms by him. His mane grows towards the back of his neck, dark as the majority of his body fur, keeping his muzzle free from obstruction. He rarely tends to his appearance past the simple act of keeping his pelt and mane mostly clean. On his journey he took little clothing, but around his neck hang a number of small leather pouches decorated with beads of bone, wood and amber. Given the opportunity he would opt for little to no garments, but would occasionally favor capelets or cloaks, spacious enough to feel comfortable over his fur, and to hide somewhat from elements and prying eyes alike. The faint smell of medicinal herbs both bitter and sweet tends to mix with his natural scent, as well as a faint hint of smoke. While Bellad, by his nature, is kind and caring, these qualities have both been at once distorted by grief and painfully sharpened by his brother’s fate. Ierian is a priority, plain and simple. His heart bleeds for him. Every bargain must benefit him, and every deed must aid his relief. To this end the younger brother has been directing all of his talent and ingenuity. Bellad is fixated on his ailing sibling to the point of obsession. Whenever he isn’t working himself to the bone trying to ease Ierian’s pain, Bellad is berating himself for the cowardice and incompetence that, he believes, brought this fate upon his tribe and his brother. What he doesn’t admit, although Ierian in his wisdom already knows, is that he’s been wearing himself out and escaping constantly from one burning question – what of Bellad’s own fate? Thankfully, Ierian himself has been able to affect Bellad. It is thanks to him that the younger Luperci offers aid to others and continues his training. Bellad does so begrudgingly, but none can argue with his results. And though he is slow to trust, let alone bond, and remains guarded and apprehensive, there is a well-hidden generosity to him. He continues to listen and learn. He has a sharp, inquisitive mind. He is a gifted healer with every bit of his older brother’s potential. Sometimes, when his older brother persuades him, Bellad would sing one of the songs from the old days, when they both listened wide-eyed to the stories of elders and the omens from the stars. And although even the happiest songs are tinged with homesickness and sorrow, Bellad’s voice is enchantingly beautiful.
Bellad was born to the West, in a small tribe of wolves known for their keen interest in the stars and their knowledge of the surrounding herbs. As the tribe’s tradition ordained, a Luperci book copied from an ancient text earned him his name. It was lifted from under the image of a shrub with dull purple bell-shaped flowers and shiny black berries illustrated on the worn page. This area used to be known as Slave Lake and for a long time life was prosperous. Songs in starlit nights, knowledge of the surrounding flora, traditions passed down from wizened elders to him and to his beloved older brother. But his kind’s worship and diligent study of nature could not protect them from disaster in the end.

The wildfire had started small, with few casualties among the Luperci. Aiming to complete their duty, the healers and herbalists who had been teaching Bellad sent him to collect medicinal herbs to aid those wounded by the fire. He was talented and swift, but the young apprentice came back to find a scorching inferno. He heard yelps of pain, the roar of the flame, and felt the smell of singed fur, burning wood and cooked meat. He searched for his brethren, even as burning branches lashed at him and marked him with burns. It was too hot, too loud, too bright, and so he ran from the fire, his animal fear driving him to seek shelter, hoping someone else would have escaped as well.

On his later return to the smoldering ruins of his home, he initially found only ash and embers, the remains of trees charred to the same blackness as the bones of those who raised and taught him. He called out desperately for his family, for his teachers, for his friends. He came across the last remnant of all three – his brother, the strong and wise Ierian. The giant Luperci had tried to save their tribe and while he survived, was horribly disfigured. His muzzle, his limbs, his back and his chest have all been scarred by fire, patches burnt into his fur. At the time, Ierian could barely see, and had he been left alone he would have surely perished. The first batch of herbs he had found, Bellad spent on the spot to ease what he could of his brother’s pain and help him survive the ensuing journey. With his brother in tow, he escaped the place of his home a second time, progressing slowly, mindful of the last treasure that survived the fire.

Their voyage had been long and hard, consisting of many nights spent with Bellad laying Ierian down to rest, to search for more herbs to make salves and brews that could nurture him and keep him alive. After many taxing days, Bellad began to see signs of other Luperci. They must have been nearing somewhere their kind had either lived before or were living now. Wherever they go, wherever they end up, he would not leave his brother’s side. Even if he would be the last person he would ever heal.
Bellad's only surviving relative is his brother, Ierian, whose burns he tends to every day